on the act of touching
by Mae'side
Summary: Sloan Sabbith did not like to be touched, but it was different this time.


Sloan Sabbith did not like to be touched. Never having had the touchy-feely family moments growing up, it was all about being shoved into lockers and tripped in the hallways, sending her study books flying at random people's feet. It was not an unhappy home life; it was just.. different. She got pats on the back for her accomplishments and a happily bragging mother parading her around like some trophy.

But Sloan was awkward even then. Just less pretty.

They took her out on dates the minute she 'blossomed' (her mother was so proud). First it was the boys, taking her to the movies, where they spent a good ammount of time staring at her breasts instead of at the infinitely larger screen. They never got any action, though. She instinctively shied away, purposefully placing her cup in the opposite holder and keeping her hands firmly in her lap. The more adult specimen couldn' t hide behind the safety of a darkened theatre to avoid talking to her. They were trapped in the necessary conversation, which she professionally steered away from small talk and onto more interesting topics. Like the economy. Her dinner companions would inch by inch slide their hand across the table to reach hers and she would do practically _anything_ to stop them from reaching their goal. Make up an excuse to drink some water (her throat was dry from all the talking, what were his views on the subject?) or rearrange the napkin in her lap.

She'd be perfect material for a guy sworn to celibacy.

Hugging a friend had never been an issue, up until the moment Kenzie had briefly touched her hand during something that was supposed to pass as a pep talk. Sloan's gaze immediately snapped towards the newly created situation; saw Kenzie's hand on top of hers in a way that felt… it felt like a new connection between synapses, like a little burst of some form of energy that was not quite uncomfortable. But her friend had seen the initial hesitation and withdrawn at once. She didn't apologize – because that would imply acknowledging some sort of issue and Kenzie was too considerate to mention any of those – but she'd just given her a quick smile before taking a sip from her cosmopolitan.

Kenzie had never touched her since.

When _he _touched her, though, she didn't feel the rush of panic she normally did, nor the little sparks racing across her skin. When he touched her, there was a kind of warmth. The kind of feeling that brought comfort, like when he used his fingers to raise her chin, or when his hand rested on her shoulder to soften the blow of her having to lie on television about the quality of her Japanese (Sloan envisioned her mother's disappointment at having to explain to all the neighbours why her little girl was apologizing on national television).

She was horrified when she heard herself admit it one day. "I like it when you touch me."

The words had just flown from her mouth before she'd thought to stop them. (She should have waited another five seconds. Five more seconds and he'd been out the door.)

Don's reaction… he wasn't frowning, exactly. She couldn't tell what it was.

"I generally don't like to be touched, so it's a thing." Sloan followed up on that sentence with something between a statement and a question, a slight shrug accompanying the whatever-it-was. "I..I know you'll probably never touch me again after this."

Don shook his head in that way that he did that made her absolutely crazy – chin up, head tilted slightly towards the ceiling in a way that was never quite a _no. _"I really couldn't say." He told her.

Sloan thought back to all those boys and men and all their calculated moves, those fingers sliding towards her own like slow little snails. "I've seen you manhandle Neal." He offered.

"That's when I do the touching. And when I'm angry."

There was a lull in the conversation after that – some may describe it as an awkward pause, but Sloan had never really minded them – before her own mouth betrayed her again. "Could you do something for me?"

"You want me to touch you?" He looked at her as if she more than a little crazy.

"Just once."

Don slowly walked over to her, his expression completely blank – for which she was enormously grateful – and gently curled his right hand around her neck, his thumb resting lightly against her throat. "Are you happy now?"

She was. _God_, she was. She felt the warmth and reveled in it.

"My face knows little variety of expressions." Sloan explained to him, then at his confused look she added, "behavioral study showed." She gave him a quick smile, gone within seconds. "Thank you."

His hand stayed there for a minute or two more, before he looked at her, _really_ looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "Can I have my hand back?" She knew he needed the sarcasm and she didn't mind. Not after he'd put up with her during one of the most bizarre conversations of the month. (She would've liked to say 'year', but with her track record, who was she kidding?)

The next week, Don placed his hand on her shoulder as he leaned over to look at the computer screen.

Sloan Sabbith didn't like to be touched. But she was working on it.

* * *

_Is it just me, or is anyone else having trouble remembering times where someone other than Don touches Sloan? *smiles* It could just be me paying too much attention to their scenes, though. _

_Please let me know what you think? Also, I might do a companion piece from Don's point of view, but not sure. Depends on whether or not my muse agrees! _

_Xo, as always_


End file.
